“I received it.” He took her hand. “Will you come to my office? We need to talk.”

Mutely, Erin followed him through the maze of cubicles and wires. When she asked, he explained the computer system that connected the newsroom to international wires and national reporters. The small pool of reporters faced a job expanded to daily online coverage of major stories and never-ending deadlines.

In the background, presses whirred. Gabriel pointed out the plexiglass that boxed in the upper floors but allowed a view to the lower tiers of the warehouse. The conversion of the warehouse to contain printing facilities had been a gamble for him, but it had paid off.

In a few nights, at close to midnight, broadsheets would slide onto conveyor belts and newspeople would mill about, checking for errors and shifting stacks for distribution. And the Ledger would publish its first daily edition.

Gabriel tapped Erin’s shoulder and she turned fascinated eyes to meet his. Wordlessly he pointed to the rear of the warehouse, where a bank of offices were arrayed along the far wall. She followed him, and, much as he had at the station, he stopped repeatedly to greet staff.

He cooed over a reporter’s newest batch of baby pictures and celebrated with an advertising assistant who had scooped the competition. He remembered every name, had a personal word for each employee. Regardless of status and the obvious fatigue of the staff, one quality marked them all: loyalty.

Erin marveled at his ability to conjure such a rare emotion in so many, but then she smiled wryly. Hadn’t she thrown in her lot with him, too?

Her quiet existence of intentional detachment had become the life of an amateur detective, one on the trail of a serial killer. As dangerous was her transition from an isolated woman to one on the brink of wanting something more. Something heady and forbidden and untried. She wanted to trust him, but the only men she had trusted were her father and Sebastian, who was more brother than friend.

And she wanted. With Gabriel, her senses were unbearably keen, her body unfamiliar.

And her heart, she discovered, had expanded to fill with her senses. She was out of her mind and out of her league with Gabriel. Yet she wanted him to know her, to understand her. To remove any trace of the shell of a woman she’d been. If Kenneth really was the killer, together, they might be able to stop him and she could begin living her life. A real life.

He ushered her into the office, unaware of her thoughts. When the door clicked shut, he shaded the glass for privacy. He pulled out a chair for her, dropped into the one next to it. “Tom Farnen was number eight?”